


caffeine

by racingshadows



Series: constant habits [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Anal Sex, Blood, Ghoul Cannibalism (Tokyo Ghoul), Gore, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Very Elaborate Plot for a Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-05-23 18:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racingshadows/pseuds/racingshadows
Summary: “I don’t need your help,” Todoroki spits.I don’t need help from anyone, I can do this by myself.“Sure,” replies Aizawa. “But you’re hungry and you’re lucky Bakugou and I are around in this area, if theothersfind you, you might not survive with, ah, that condition of yours.”(Or: that one story about surviving, finding a place to be called home, and how to make coffee. Tokyo Ghoul AU.)





	1. grazing skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Todospace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todospace/gifts).



_His shoulder hurt, he couldn’t see—his left eye ached when he tried to open it, he was on his stomach, his hand fisted to endure the pain, but his other hand reached out, his mouth opened slightly—_

_“Okaa—“_

_There was the scream again, and more pain. This time; his hand, his chest, his leg, and—it hurt it hurt it hurt make it stop please Okaasan—_

_He could make out the shape in front of him was indeed her mother; he could see the length of her hair, the way she stood, and her hands—Okaasan it hurt please make it stop—_

_And, the pain never came._

_There was a voice that he knew too well; a voice that would have woken him up, becoming fuel in his nightmares and sleepless night, and a constant fright during the daylight._

_His father._

_This time, he reached out to his father, to stop him from whatever he was going to do—no no stay away from her—_

_He heard a clang. And soon he couldn’t see his mother again, his father had gotten in the way and he wanted to yell, to scream, to kick, to trash—no no no stay away from her you—_

_And then he remembered nothing else._

*

His stomach grumbles, followed by a pang of pain that makes Todoroki winces.

It’s already night time. Another day without stuffing something to his stomach. It has been days since the last time he ate. No, maybe weeks. Or months. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t keep up with time. He just knows he has to run. Far away. Out of his father’s reach.

He can survive with _other_ foods—fruits he steals from stall, onigiri from convenient store, and melon bread from a really nice old lady—but he needs _real_ food; soft skin his teeth can sink in, the taste of fat in his tongue, and the sweetness of blood—

His stomach grumbles, even louder. He looks down, letting his hair cover his face to hide his blush, he hears some laughter from a group of girls beside him.

An idea occurs to his mind.

Maybe… maybe he can convince one of them to… go with him… maybe.

His mouth waters when he looks at them; a group of young girls, probably his age, still wearing high school uniform, and _soft supple skin, and faint sweetness he can scent—_

He turns back, and starts running.

_No, no, no_ , he reminds himself, _I’m not like that old man, I don’t use sweet talk to eat._

He doesn’t know how far he runs, he doesn’t notice everyone around him is _staring_. He just runs, and tries so hard not to notice _his food is around him_.

He stops, abruptly, leaning down to his knees, and he doesn’t feel tired at all—long practice with his father is something he is grateful for the current condition of his body—and that was when he realizes where he is; in his right, a small alley. He can make out someone… he hopes it is a human… laying down… with some cardboard on them…

He knows they probably haven’t taken a bath in forever but Todoroki can still _smell_ the strong scent under those cardboards and, he gulps. If they’re here, that means… they have no one, right? No one will start looking for them? And… and maybe they are old, or not so young anymore, but—he wants this—he _needs_ this—he starts walking— _no_ , running toward them—

What he sees is an old man, just like what he has predicted. But, doesn’t matter. Todoroki looks around and wonders where to start: the neck, where he can drink in the blood? Maybe the arm where it has more fat? But the eyeballs are also his favorite…

So, he starts with the face, to spare him the trouble, in case the old man wakes up. When he puts both of his hands on the old man’s head, he opens his eyes and sees Todoroki. Before the old man can open his mouth, Todoroki twists and breaks his neck, and pulls it away from his body. Blood splattering on the cardboards and on Todoroki’s leg from where he holds out the head but he doesn’t mind it a bit. He licks the blood on his fingers, and is about to gouge the eyeball when—

“Hey, Fuckhead, this is _my_ fucking territory!”

Todoroki only gets one eyeball out, as he turns his head to find another human—no, another _ghoul_ , with their kakugan eyes staring right back at him, and Todoroki thinks, _If only look could kill…_

“Oh?” Todoroki puts the eyeball in his mouth. “Want to share, then?”

“ _You fucker—_ “ Their kagune flares out, almost reaches Todoroki, if only he didn’t step back a few milisecond late.

Todoroki still chews, can’t even taste the eyeball in his tongue because he has to think _fast_ , how to beat the person who ruins his dinner. He gulps down the rest of it, and he still wants _more_. He licks his fingers while his eyes never leave them—Todoroki just realizes they have blonde and spiky hair, like _really spiky_ —and lets his kagune roaming free from his clothes. His left side of ukaku is not as perfect as his right side—it’s barely there, but his right side is big enough to cover him, if he needs to shield himself. But Todoroki _always_ attacks, powerful and fast enough he doesn’t need to defend.

“ _One eye?”_ Todoroki can hear them muttering.

He bends down, ready to attack—

“Stop.”

They tense, but stand still, and Todoroki can _swear_ the voice was coming from their behind—and true, someone is pushing them away.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki sees they have long black hair and tired eyes—and _is that bandages around his arms and shoulder?_ “What did I tell you about picking a fight?”

“He’s in my fucking territory.” That spiky-haired—Bakugou—points at Todoroki.

“And what did I tell you? This ward belongs to no one.”

Bakugou sneers, but makes no move to attack. Todoroki still stands alert and watches them both, wondering if he can just escape—

“You,” the bandaged man points at him. “What’s your name?”

Todoroki blinks, and before he can stop himself, “Todoroki.”

“Todoroki,” the man repeats. Todoroki still stays on guard, his kagune flairs blue and red, he silently curses himself to give his name _so easily_. “You hungry, Todoroki?”

“ _What_.”

“I said, are you hungry?” He says, raising his hands. “Look, I am _not_ here to fight you, okay? Unlike this stupid guy who claims this ward is his,”—he tilts his head to Bakugou, who shouts, _Hey!_ —“My name’s Aizawa, and I am here to help you, if you’re hungry and,” he stops to watch Todoroki, “... have no place to stay.”

“I don’t need your help,” Todoroki spits. _I don’t need help from anyone, I can do this by myself._

“Sure,” replies Aizawa. “But you’re hungry and you’re lucky Bakugou and I are around in this area, if the _others_ find you, you might not survive with, ah, that condition of yours.”

“I’m stronger than I look.” Todoroki _hates_ it when someone makes a remark about his kagune; especially his left side. _Broken wings. Fallen angel_. He has heard it many times, and he has proved them wrong as that many.

“No surprise, your wings are large.” The tone in Aizawa’s voice makes Todoroki’s hand twitch. _No one_ has said it before. _No one_ has acknowledged his strength and even—even _his father_ —

“So, Todoroki,” continues Aizawa. “Are you hungry?”

Todoroki stares at Aizawa, at his bandaged arms and shoulders, and his tired eyes, but—no, Aizawa’s eyes are _glinting_ and—and maybe, Todoroki is just tired from running—he quickly moves his look to Bakugou; and meet with red eyes— _so his eyes are red, even without the kakugan—_ that look back at him with wonder. Maybe Todoroki is just tired from running, and he shouldn’t trust anyone, but there’s _something_ in the way Aizawa asks Todoroki; the way Aizawa puts his hands up to show to Todoroki he means no harm, and his tone, and Todoroki can find himself… being safe as long as he’s with Aizawa.

Still, Todoroki is anything but stupid.

“What do you want?”

Aizawa smiles; a lift at the corner of his mouth to show his teeth,”Your time, and energy.”

*

Here’s what happened: they go to a cafe, already closed. Before they entered, Bakugou handed Todoroki a handkerchief to _wipe that fucking filth_ because apparently there is blood splattered on his hair and face.

“Welcome to Erase Sleep,” says Aizawa when they step in.

Todoroki looks around; it is dark inside but his eyes have adjusted, he can still smell coffee, and there is still cups and plates on the tables.

“Bakugou, you didn’t clean up again?”

“It was fucking Kayama-san’s shift!”

A _click_ is heard behind Todoroki, and before he can turn around, Aizawa already walks ahead, to the another door. Aizawa opens it, and Todoroki can’t see his face clearly because of the sudden light coming from the room, but Bakugou shoves him to move forward, so Todoroki follows, to the other side of the door.

“We used to have many people live here,” explains Aizawa as they walk in a corridor full of doors. “But they have their own place now, like Bakugou here.”

Todoroki sneaks up a glance to Bakugou, who stares back at him, and Todoroki looks away. He wonders why Bakugou always looks angry or ready to kill someone.

Aizawa stops at one door. “This is where you will sleep.”

He opens it and Todoroki sees there is only one bed, a wardrobe, a table, and a chair. No futon nor tatami like in his house, but he can’t ask for more.

“Perhaps you’d like to rest, while I grab the meal.”

Todoroki nods, stepping into the room, turning on the light, and sitting on the bed. He notices Bakugou is still staring at him, he turns toward Bakugou.

“Can I help you?”

Bakugou looks away, an annoyed look on his face. (Probably because he gets caught staring.) And silence fills the room while Todoroki considers if he should say something more appropriate like, _Sorry for eating in your territory, I’m really hungry_.

“You’re one eyed ghoul.”

That is one of the question Todoroki has been expecting, except it’s more like a _statement_. He sighs, “Yeah, and you’re saying like you haven’t seen one before.”

Bakugou shakes his head. “I’ve been here for a long time and I thought one-eyed ghoul is a myth.”

“Well I clearly am not the only one, that’s for sure.”

“What do you—“

The door creaks open, and Aizawa walks in, with a package in his hand. Bakugou looks at Todoroki once more, and leaves.

Bakugou doesn’t ask Todoroki again.

*

Todoroki doesn’t remember how long it has been since he slept in bed, in _real_ bed. When he wakes up, he can feel himself closing his eyes and drowning again in sleep, but he forces to get out of the bed, and goes to the bathroom to wash his face.

There is a sound coming from outside, from the cafe; clanking, laughter, and probably some cursing—maybe Bakugou, if he hears it right.

When he opens the door, there are at least four people; Aizawa is wiping the counter, Bakugou is arranging the tables, and there are a long-haired woman and a blond man washing the dishes.

“It’s your fault for not cleaning up last night, Bakugou,”says the long-haired woman.

“It was _your_ fucking shift too, shithead,” barks Bakugou.

“Language, Bakugou, respect your elders,” says Aizawa, and Todoroki can see he’s more tired than last night.

Todoroki lets the door close behind him, and Aizawa turns.

“Oh, Todoroki, you’re awake.” He nods to the counter. “Come here, I’ll make you coffee.”

Todoroki sits on the stool, and watches Aizawa preparing the coffee; grinding the beans, adding the water to the grounds—

“You must be the one eyed ghoul Bakugou was talking about!” The long-haired woman chimes in, scooting closer so she stands in front of Todoroki, only a counter between them. “I’m Kayama Nemuri.”

“Todoroki,” he replies.

“I _didn’t_ fucking talk about him,” Bakugou already stands beside Todoroki, with a broom in his hand.

“Oh, really? So what was that,” Kayama clears her throat, “ _Half and half bastard thinking he could eat in my fucking territory?_ ”

Todoroki just knew Bakugou in a day, and his first impression of Bakugou was not… really good. Despite everything, Todoroki _laughs_ ; the kind of laugh that he has to bend because his stomach hurts, and no sound coming out of him, but his shoulders are shaking, and there are even tears in his eyes. He doesn’t remember when was the last time he ever laughed so hard.

When he can calm himself down, it is quiet and everyone’s staring at him. There’s still some laughter in him but he tries to suppress it down.

Aizawa sighs and sets down a cup of coffee in front of Todoroki, “Looks like you already fit in.” Aizawa also puts down his own cup, “Here’s what you need to do, kid: you work here, and we’ll pay you, with food and money. And first, let me ask you some questions.”

“Shouta, you can’t just interview someone _after_ hiring them!” The blond man says.

Aizawa ignores him, “You’re in school?”

Todoroki shakes his head.

“Can you eat human’s food?”

It is silent, and Todoroki can feel everyone staring at him, watching him, when he answers, “I can.” He looks straight at Aizawa, when he adds, “But it’s not enough.”

Aizawa nods, “Well, then, we can skip the question on how well can you pretend to eat in front of them.” He continues, “We usually have leftover breads, feel free to take them.”

Todoroki nods, muttering a _thank you_ , and something—something feels _off_ ; how can they trust him, a stranger? They don’t know about _him_ , about his past, why would they help him?

“And then let’s move on to the rules.” Aizawa says, and the blond _just_ opens his mouth when Aizawa cuts in, “And the rules are not meant to be broken.”

“Okay…” Todoroki nods again, hesitatingly.

“Rule number one: no eating from this ward. Even when Bakugou did say something about his territory, you better not believe him.”

“ _Excuse fucking me?!_ That one _is_ my territory!” shouts Bakugou.

“Understand, Todoroki?” Aizawa doesn’t even wait for Todoroki to answer or to nod, as he continues, “Rule number two: you live here so you better behave. Oh, before I forget, let me introduce you to these people working here, although Kayama-san has introduced herself. Be careful, kid, she likes young men—“

“What…” Todoroki stops, before continuing, “What does _that_ even mean?”

“It means young men are just _very_ tasty,” Kayama purrs, leaning in close to Todoroki, “And you _smell so good_ , Todoroki-kun.”

Todoroki steps back, and Bakugou snorts a laugh. Kayama pouts, “Aizawa!”

Aizawa, once again, sighs. “Rule number three, Todoroki: don’t get alone with her. Also, you seem young, how old are you, again?”

“I’m 19,” answers Todoroki.

“Well then, Kayama-san, please leave Todoroki alone.” Aizawa turns to the blond man, who’s already grinning.

“I’m Yamada! Yamada Hizashi!” He’s already extending out his hand, and Todoroki accepts it warily. “Nice to meet you, Todoroki-kun!”

“Uh, nice to meet you too,” Todoroki says, as he, slowly, lets go of Yamada’s hand. Yamada’s grip sure is strong.

“And you’ve met Bakugou,” Aizawa nods to Bakugou, who rolls his eyes. “He’s a year older than you, but I hope you’ll be getting along well in the future. Any question?”

“Are all of you…” _Ghouls_ , Todoroki lets his question stops, but everyone knows what he means.

“Yes, we are,” answers Kayama. “Honestly? This ward has just as many ghouls as in other wards.”

“We’re just lucky ghouls here can _behave_ , so the CCG doesn’t even bat an eye to this ward,” explains Yamada. “Of course, our little Bakugou here is still young and hungry, he needs his own territory.”

“ _What the fuck_ —“ Bakugou looks so _ready_ to lunge at Yamada, but Yamada just grins and reaches out to mess with Bakugou’s hair, which Bakugou swats his hand away.

“Language, Bakugou,” says Aizawa, turning back to Todoroki. “Any other question?”

“You… own this place?” asks Todoroki.

“Yes,” answers Aizawa, as he brings his cup to his mouth and drinks all the content inside with one big gulp.

Todoroki stares, not blinking, as Aizawa sets down the cup and waits.

“Any other question, Todoroki?”

Todoroki _finally_ blinks, “Uh, why is this place named Erase Sleep when you even look like you need hours of sleep?”

And _everyone_ bursts out laughing, Bakugou even has to lean to the counter. Aizawa looks around to his underlings and sighs.

“Kid,” he says. “Rule number four: don’t tell me how to live my life.”

*

Rule number five: Bakugou is assigned to watch over Todoroki.

After a series of; _I’m here to work so I can fucking pay for college, not to babysit a new dickhead_ , Bakugou finally gives in and that was how Todoroki finds himself shifting around in his new uniform; white shirt that’s just too big for him, and black pants that are just too _short_.

“It’s a good thing you have that pretty face,” says Kayama when she sees Todoroki. “Otherwise it’d just be too weird to see you in those.”

“The fuck do you mean, Old Woman?!”

“Oh, _I’m_ Old Woman now? What do you—“

Yamada cuts in, “I’m sorry for that, we don’t have any uniform left and we thought Katsuki’s size will be close to yours.”

Todoroki nods and, “Katsuki…?”

“Ah. Bakugou. Katsuki. That’s his name,” answers Yamada.

“Yamada-san, I don’t give you permission to call me _that_.”

“At least he has the decency to call everyone with honorifics,” says Yamada, almost to himself. “What’s your given name, Todoroki?”

Todoroki hesitates, it’s been such a long time since he has heard or said _his_ name, but he tries, “Shouto.” He repeats, “Shouto. But Todoroki’s fine too.”

There is a strange taste in his tongue and feeling in his ears at _Shouto_. If all, he doesn’t want to hear it again.

He turns to find Bakugou _staring_ again, with unreadable face and at least Bakugou doesn’t look angry. Curious, maybe. But at _what_?

Todoroki tries to change the topic, “Is there any rule that Aizawa-san forgot?”

There is a certain silence as Bakugou, Yamada, and Kayama exchange their glances, silent words and understanding passing between them, and somehow, Todoroki understands he is not meant to be left out. They are going to tell him.

So Kayama decides, “Rule number five: when things go wrong, try to stay alive.”

*

Todoroki learns that Erase Sleep, is full of _ghouls_. Of course, there are humans too, and majority of people coming for a cup of coffee is human. And they’re friends with Yamada, Kayama, and Bakugou. Or, they’re on bickering basis with Bakugou. The customers are used to Bakugou giving names to them, some are even amused, and some are protesting because, _It sounds better than yesterday—have you gotten weak?_

(And Bakugou, promptly gets the takeaway cup—if the customer orders it—and furiously scribbles the other name he can think of.)

Todoroki can’t believe his luck: yesterday, he was still starving and almost kidnapped a young girl. Now, the hunger feels so far away, out of his reach. Not to mention he gets a bed, and a roof. And new clothes, even if they’re too big for him.

But he waits, carefully, cautiously, because he doesn’t get lucky every time. His luck must’ve been running out.

*

“Bakugou! How you doin’, man?”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Shitty Hair.”

Todoroki looks up to find a young man who’s probably his age, with spiky red hair—as spiky as Bakugou’s, actually, so Todoroki wonders what does that make him, if Bakugou calls it shitty hair. Bakugou makes coffee while responding—no, grunting—to whatever that Shitty Hair is talking. They must be really close, Todoroki considers.

“I can’t believe you’re paying for this shit,” mutters Bakugou, handing a takeaway cup.

“Aw, man, it’s _you_ who made this! So of course!”

“Go to hell.”

Shitty Hair takes a sip of his coffee. “Gladly.”

He notices Todoroki paying attention to both of them, and a huge grin appears on his face.

“You must be new here!” He says, “I’m Kirishima. Bakugou’s best friend. Like, _very_ best friend. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Shitty Hair,” calls Bakugou. “Didn’t you say you, gladly, will go to hell?”

Kirishima blinks, “Yeah?”

“Go to hell now, idiot.”

Kirishima barks a laugh, “See? Bakugou just doesn’t know it yet.”

Todoroki has to hold back a smile, because Bakugou is watching, _squinting_ at him.

He replies, “I’m Todoroki.”

“So you’re under the supervision of Bakugou?” Kirishima asks.

“Unfortunately,” answers Todoroki.

“ _What the fuck you ungrateful little brat—“_

Kirishima laughs again, and his laugh is contagious, that Todoroki really can’t help but smile, “I like him already, Bakugou, even I think I’ll like him more than you.”

“Eat shit.”

“Aw, he’s jealous. Don’t worry, man, you’re still my best friend.”

Watching them bickering—from Bakugou—and talking happily—from Kirishima—reminds Todoroki about that one time when he—

He stops thinking about it, he _doesn’t_ need an unwanted flashing memory. So he steps away, and—

_“Matsumoto-kun!”_

The voice is clear, ringing in his ears as he looks around, trying to find the source. Then: a boy, in high school uniform, calls out to this _Matsumoto_ as he tries to catch up, running to the outside of the cafe.

Todoroki stares at the closed door; he thought he saw the boy has green hair.

*

There is still one question from Todoroki.

“Is Kirishima a human?”

Bakugou stops wiping the table. Earlier, Kayama and Yamada had hurriedly gone off, and both Todoroki and Bakugou has no idea where.

_(“I’m going to make them fucking pay for this,” says Bakugou.)_

Todoroki waits, as Bakugou turns his head to see Todoroki, with broom in hands. Bakugou asks, “Why are you asking that?”

“He smells… different,” replies Todoroki. _He smells human_.

Bakugou turns again to his work, his voice is barely heard over the running water, “It’s none of your business, Todoroki.”

Todoroki considers it, still watching Bakugou, and continues sweeping the floor.

*

Todoroki is just a stranger, coming along because he was hungry, stinky, and also sleepy. He understands people in Erase Sleep acting cautious in front of him, watching him, and waiting for him to blow up the cover.

_It’s not their fault_ , Todoroki considers. Behind their laugh and smile toward the customers, there is a certain uneasiness laying behind their eyes when they watch the customers leave. Every ring from the bell makes them turns their head to the door, watching people come in. There is a flash second of worry and fear in their eyes, before it’s quickly hidden by their wide smile, and loud, “Welcome!”

But the uneasiness still hangs in the air, and that’s why Todoroki can differentiate humans and ghouls in the cafe; it is seen in side glances, squinting eyes, taking a careful sip from the coffee cup as if to erase the sudden and burning thirst in their throat. And, if there’s a human coming with a ghoul, the ghoul will hesitate first before ordering a sandwich or cake. The human might not realize the disgust in the ghoul’s eyes as they take a bite of their food. The human might not realize the hunger in the ghoul’s eyes as they watch the human.

Todoroki watches it all, observing, noticing every little details. It’s just a habit he has learned since little.

*

Bakugou spits the coffee Todoroki made.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts. “Can’t you even fucking make a decent coffee, you shithead?!”

“I did as you told, Bakugou.”

“Well you clearly didn’t fucking pay any attention, asshole,” grunts Bakugou, getting up and walking to the coffeemaker. “Watch this and don’t make any fucking mistake again.”

Todoroki does; eyes following Bakugou’s movement, as he grinds the coffee beans and— _are those… scars on his hand?_

Todoroki blinks, leaning closer to see the scars better. It’s a long sliced, deep cut that’s still red—Todoroki also has scars like that, but it’s hidden beneath his clothes. And he thinks, scars are normal; they’re ghouls.

Todoroki looks up to search for more scars on Bakugou. Judging from Bakugou’s fighting position when they first met, Bakugou surely might’ve had some experiences, right? Plenty, even.

There is one—no, _two_ —on Bakugou’s neck, on his right side. They’re clearly visible because Bakugou’s skin is pale. Maybe he spends most of free time indoors, in the cafe. Maybe he sneaks out during the night.

Todoroki realizes the skin looks soft, and Todoroki’s eyes move up to Bakugou’s face; plump cheek, not even a single acne appeared there—wait, there’s also a scar. A long one, but barely visible. Bakugou’s eyelashes is also long… and his eyes—

“The fuck you’re looking at, Half and Half?”

Todoroki blinks, stammering, “I—“

“And you _didn’t_ pay any attention again, asshole.”

“I was just—“

“You need to stop watching people and being creepy about it, and start doing your job.”

Todoroki looks away, feeling his face heated at the thought of Bakugou noticed what Todoroki had been doing. He bites his lower lip, “Sorry.”

“If you’re fucking sorry, then _fucking act like it_.”

*

Aizawa used to teach Bakugou in high school, so that explains why Bakugou calls him _Sensei_ sometimes, it’s just a habit, explained Kayama.

Kayama and Yamada have been friends with Aizawa since they three were students in school. They decided to open up a coffeeshop after Aizawa quit teaching.

There _might be_ a reason why Aizawa did it; it is no coincidence from the way Kayama said, _That Shouta actually really cares about Bakugou._

Bakugou makes the best coffee. Aizawa is actually the best from of the best, as Yamada said. But Bakugou comes really close to the first. While Todoroki’s coffee is still shit, even after a few useless weeks working in Erase Sleep, to quote what Bakugou had said.

*

One night, Todoroki hears a thud coming from the coffee shop. He puts down the book he’s reading, and walks outside. It’s raining, and the sound is barely inaudible—but Todoroki _did_ hear it. Before, he was praised for his hearing and sense of smell. Another effect of being a half-ghoul, he supposes.

Then, he hears it again: _thud_. On the front door. He presses one ear on the door, eyes closed, listening: the sound of rain hitting pavement, no sound of footstep to be heard—but there _is_ panting, and a muffled groaning. Todoroki unlocks the door slowly, careful not to make any sound, before creaking the door open, just slightly. His eyes meet a pair of red ones; the owner is sitting down, leaning to the door before Todoroki opens it, breathless, his face and hair are wet, probably from sweat and rain, and… and… he’s _bleeding_. Todoroki finds the smell of ghouls’ blood is rotten and making his stomach churn.

Todoroki holds his breath as he tries to find his voice, “Bakugou?”

*

Bakugou refuses to take care of his wound.

“I said I’m _fine_ , asshole.” He’s standing in front of his room—Todoroki just knew the room is next to his—and Bakugou’s hand lingers on the doorknob, not pushing it open, waiting for Todoroki to leave him alone.

“Bakugou, you’re _bleeding_.” Todoroki stands not too close, but he can still smell the blood staining Bakugou’s clothes; and the way Bakugou stands upright and holds his side must be because the bleeding hasn’t stopped.

“I’m a _ghoul_. I can heal myself.”

“At least let me see it and—“

“ _No_. And keep your hands to yourself. I’m sleeping here, and you ain’t telling Aizawa-sensei shit.” He pushes the door open, and closes it, leaving Todoroki staring at the closed door.

_He must’ve respected Aizawa a lot_ , Todoroki thinks.

*

“Todoroki,” calls Aizawa, when Todoroki steps inside of the cafe, from putting the blackboard outside, near the entry door. Aizawa nods at him, motioning him to come closer to the counter.

“Did something happen last night?”

Todoroki has expected the question. Bakugou’s room had been locked by the owner this morning. But Todoroki knows, nothing will escape Aizawa’s sharp eyes, no matter how sleepy they look.

“No,” Todoroki shakes his head. “Nothing happened. Why?”

Aizawa doesn’t reply, yet. He watches Todoroki, searching for any twitch or blink that could expose the lie. Todoroki is used to keep his face calm and flat, not giving anything. It is so easy to convince people that he tells no false truth.

Aizawa lowers his eyes, back to the work he is doing. “Never mind.”

*

The same thing happens again, once. A few days later.

Then, twice. Not so far from the second time.

And when Todoroki hears another _thud_ and finds Bakugou outside, hurt and bleeding and eyes glazed from losing blood—Todoroki doubts his wound from before has healed—and it almost seems like life is draining from his red eyes. Todoroki’s own widened; heart beating fast as he crouches down, taking Bakugou’s face in his hands.

“Bakugou? Bakugou! Can you hear me?”

Bakugou is by no mean light, but Todoroki can still pull him up and bring him inside just fine. It is just when they almost reach Bakugou’s room, that Bakugou finally starts to realize where he ist, and yanks himself free from Todoroki.

It takes him a moment to get his own keys, and finally, _finally_ Todoroki can force his way inside of Bakugou’s room, with bandage roll and disinfectant—which, Bakugou scoffs at.

“A _disinfectant?_ Think ghouls can get infected with human virus?”

“It’s in the first aid kit?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Give me that.” Todoroki lets him taking everything. Then, “Out.”

Todoroki blinks, “Bakugou—“

“I said, out.”

“Are you sure you can—“

“ _You fucking hear me, bastard. Out. Of my room. Now.”_

Todoroki tries, again, “Bakugou—“

“ _Don’t,_ ” Bakugou growls. “Don’t fucking pretend like you give any shit. I bet you’re secretly happy and think I deserve this.”

Todoroki gapes, and before he can reply, Bakugou already shoves him outside, slams the door right in front of his face, locks it.

Todoroki tries to open it, knocks it again and again. No answer. Not even any sound from inside.

“Bakugou,” calls Todoroki, but he stops; what will he say? That he cares? Yes, Todoroki knows he _cares_ for Bakugou’s own safety and health. Todoroki even acknowledges him as Todoroki’s friend, and _friends_ care for each other, right?

Todoroki realizes, almost tiredly, that he doesn’t have any experience of befriending someone. He is always the one to be reached out first; this time, he wants to voice his thoughts, to say, to _convince_ Bakugou that he does want Bakugou to be fine. Truly fine.

So Todoroki tries again.

“Bakugou,” he says, voice lowers, almost like he’s whispering to the door. “I want you to know, that I,” he swallows, _that I what?_ “If… if you die, I’ll be sad.”

When the words come out of his mouth, he looks up suddenly, expecting a reaction from Bakugou, maybe a shout, _I’m not gonna die you asshole_.

But inside, it is still silent.

Todoroki hadn’t meant it, the die part. But—Todoroki can still see Bakugou’s red eyes, half closed, almost like he just wanted to close and never open them again.

It is still silent.

Todoroki gazes at the door again, waiting for anything; a creak from the door, a voice inside, _anything_.

But it is still silent.

*

Bakugou doesn’t come the next day.

(Or, comes back again for work.)

Aizawa eyes Todoroki as he puts down the cup of coffee. Aizawa opens his mouth as if to say, _Are you sure nothing has happened_. But instead, he takes the cup, and brings it to his lips.

Todoroki watches him; since Bakugou isn’t here, Aizawa has taken his role to teach Todoroki. He doesn’t know how to feel; he isn’t feeling nervous, he isn’t feeling anxious, he just has no idea what is this thing he feels inside of his stomach, up to his chest and neck, making him almost difficult to breathe, and he can’t shake it.

“It’s good,” says Aizawa, putting down the cup. “You’ve already learned a lot.”

Todoroki bows, muttering a _thank you_ , while he can’t help but thinking, _Will Bakugou say the same_.

*

Bakugou still doesn’t come back the next day.

*

Or the day after.

*

Eventually, Kayama starts to worry, but her worriness doesn’t last long, as someone opens the door, and they all turn to it; Bakugou, looking pale and there are eyebags and his eyes look tired, but he’s still _alive_. Todoroki knows they all feel relief washing over them at the sight.

“What?!” barks Bakugou, “Don’t go staring on me, you dipshit.”

They ignore him, and this time, they just smile.

Then maybe, everything’s okay. Whatever happened to Bakugou, must be over now.

*

It’s not over.

Todoroki can already hear it under the rain; the dragging footsteps, panting, and some muttering, _Shit shit shit shit shit_.

He can even hear blood, dripping down.

He is outside of his room before he knows it, running to the front door, unlocking and opening it, and find Bakugou almost falling down to his feet. Todoroki catches him, calls his name, but Bakugou doesn’t answer, eyes glassy and unfocused as they shift to Todoroki. Todoroki has to drag him inside, looking around to make sure no one is around, and silently grateful that the rain may have washed the blood and the smell of it.

Inside, Todoroki can feel Bakugou’s cold skin, and he finds _so many_ wounds and injuries on Bakugou’s body.

_Why aren’t they healing properly_.

Todoroki doesn’t know if Bakugou has _eaten_ , before. He has no idea where Aizawa keeps his _stock_ , or if he has any time to find it.

He taps Bakugou’s cheek. “Bakugou.”

Bakugou opens his eyes, slightly. Todoroki puts Bakugou’s head on his lap, one arm around Bakugou’s shoulder to lift him up, another arm is extended, brought it closer to Bakugou’s lips. But Bakugou stills, staring at it. Todoroki brings his arm closer, touching Bakugou’s lips.

“Here,” Todoroki whispers. _Eat_.

Bakugou opens his mouth just a little, and nips. Todoroki jolts as pain and blood and skin are ripped from him. He grits his teeth and fists his hand. Pain. He’s used to pain. Just another one won’t hurt as much as before. He had gone through worse.

Bakugou swallows, and opens his mouth again, wider this time, before he takes another bite. Todoroki winces, and although he can heal himself rather quick, but the scars will appear there.

He stays put until Bakugou seem better, and, “Wait.”

Bakugou stops himself from sinking his teeth back in, and looks up at Todoroki. His eyes are focused now, although still glassy. Todoroki pulls his arm, and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, ignoring the pain and blood on his arm.

Unbuttoning with one hand is difficult, even more when the hand is hurt. So Todoroki carefully puts down Bakugou’s head on his lap again, and uses both of his hands, while Bakugou watches him—or stares into the distance, maybe.

He doesn’t unbutton _all_ of them, enough to slide off his shoulder, showing his collarbone, and he lifts Bakugou up again, but Bakugou has gained more strength, he can almost sit up.

“Here,” Todoroki whispers again, pulling Bakugou’s head closer to his shoulder. He can feel Bakugou’s warm breath on him, and—Bakugou doesn’t bite him. He _licks,_ touching Todoroki’s skin with his tongue, as if to try Todoroki first. Todoroki gasps, not anticipating that, as his body jolts.

“Bakugou—“

Before Todoroki can even start, Bakugou already has his teeth grazing Todoroki’s skin. Todoroki holds Bakugou tighter, and shivers.

Then, Bakugou sinks his teeth in.

And Todoroki finds it doesn’t hurt as much as before.

*

It is already morning, and Bakugou has gone, but he left a cup of coffee on the table, for Todoroki.

Todoroki almost smiles when he sees it.

*

“Not bad,” is what Bakugou has said when he tastes Todoroki’s coffee.

It’s nothing like Aizawa’s compliment, but still Todoroki smiles at that.

“Thank you,” he replies.

Bakugou rolls his eyes and thrusts the cup to Todoroki, “Wash this.”

Todoroki takes it, his fingers accidentally touches Bakugou’s, and he thinks, _Warm_.

Bakugou pulls his hand. “Your hand is fucking cold.”

Todoroki raises one eyebrow, “Is it?” Maybe because it’s _cold_ outside, Todoroki can feel it…

“Whatever,” mutters Bakugou, “Clean this before we open up.”

*

Bakugou seems… different. Not nicer, he’s being usual; bickering at customers, yelling at Todoroki for getting in his way, shouting at Kayama and Yamada… no, certainly not nicer.

But… Bakugou seems… very careful around Todoroki.

And… watches Todoroki more.

_It’s nothing_ , Todoroki says to himself. _It’s probably because he feels like he owes me. Or afraid I’m going to break another cup or plate_.

Todoroki just finish cleaning up the table when he looks up and—

There it is. Those crimson eyes are still staring at him. Bakugou doesn’t look away, but it almost seems like he’s already lost in his thoughts, and Todoroki is reminded of _that_ night; Bakugou, eyes hazy. Bakugou, his breath on Todoroki’s skin. Bakugou, his warm mouth—

It’s Todoroki who looks away first.

*

Todoroki has been told once, or maybe even twice, that he smells _nice_. Maybe he smells like half food.

If Bakugou starts looking at him because of it, then it’ll make sense. A perfect sense. And Bakugou _does_ stare with hunger in his eyes, and if all, it doesn’t make Todoroki scared at all. There must be something wrong with him—because he is not afraid; he is… _excited_.

So. There must be something wrong with him—

“Oi, Half and Half, don’t get in my fucking way.”

Speak of the devil.

“I’m washing the dishes.”

“Fucking smartass. I can see it.”

Todoroki sometimes wonders why Bakugou doesn’t treat his food better; nicer.

He huffs, “What do you even want.”

“I need to grab the sugar.”

“So take it.”

“Didn’t you hear me? _You’re in my fucking way._ ”

Todoroki turns, hands still wet with water and bubble soap, “Look, just because I’m taller than you—“

“ _The fuck did you say?!_ ”

Bakugou steps closer, and Todoroki expects a punch, _right here, right now,_ in front of the customers. He doesn’t even flinch, but—Bakugou reaches up to the shelf just above the sink, and Todoroki holds his breath.

_Bakugou is so close, and he feels so warm._

Bakugou stands on his tiptoes, and Todoroki can see his adam’s apple— _oh, there’s also a scar there_.

Todoroki wonders if Bakugou’s injuries from that night have healed… if they left scars… Todoroki also wonders how Bakugou will taste like if Todoroki licks his neck the way he did Todoroki that night…

He also wonders if Bakugou’s lips are soft.

Bakugou looks down at him, and he looks at anywhere else but Bakugou. Eventually, Bakugou gets the sugar and steps away, turning around to continue making coffee.

Todoroki also goes back to his stacks of dirty cups and plates.

And can still feel Bakugou’s warmth through his front.

*

Bakugou doesn’t come again late at night, bleeding and all that dying stuff. When he comes to Erase Sleep, he looks better everyday. Todoroki feels relieved at that, but still anticipating another sound every night when he lies in bed; he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the sound around him, and then, outside. No, he doesn’t hear anything familiar.

But one night, he hears a _knock_. He is drifting to sleep and it is quiet. He runs to the front door, out of habit.

Bakugou is standing there, one hand on his jeans pocket, but he stands upright, and there is no smell of blood.

Or maybe it’s because Bakugou is _not_ dying this time.

Sensing everything is actually okay, Todoroki yawns, “What is it?”

Bakugou storms inside, and Todoroki locks the door. He waits until Bakugou gives answer, but Bakugou is just pacing around, not even looking at Todoroki.

“Bakugou?”

“I want to sleep here.”

Todoroki nods, “Okay.” He already walks away when Bakugou calls out.

“Where are you going?”

“Sleep, of course.”

No reply from Bakugou’s side, and Todoroki turns to find Bakugou staring at him, eyes widening, and Todoroki frowns, “Is something wrong?”

Bakugou _pouts_ , and Todoroki once thought, the word _cute_ didn’t even define _Bakugou Katsuki_ , but that was the first word in mind when he saw Bakugou pouting.

“No. Just. Fucking go to sleep.”

Todoroki’s still frowning, but he’s more confused as before. “Okay…”

When he closes his door, he can hear Bakugou sighing.

*

Bakugou seems different, but also acting weird.

Or maybe it’s because Todoroki is acting weirder.

Whatever it is, Todoroki starts to wonder _why_ Bakugou is everywhere. Well, yes, there is a perfect explanation for that: they work and have a shift together. But _why_ does Todoroki have to see Bakugou everywhere, _every time_?

When he sees Bakugou, his mind starts to wander, to drift off…

Todoroki, in his nineteen years of his life, has _never_ felt anything like this before. _This_ , refers to, a wonder, a _question_ , about how Bakugou’s lips will feel, how Bakugou’s skin will feel under his palm, and how Bakugou’s voice will sound like if he calls Todoroki’s name…

No, Todoroki has _never_ felt anything like this before.

*

There is a screaming, and a shattering sound.

Everything in the cafe goes still; silent. Bakugou’s front shirt is stained with coffee, and the cup is broken on the floor. The customer—who accidentally broke the cup and ruined Bakugou’s shirt in the process—stands up and bows down, apologies come out of her mouth fast. Bakugou shakes his head, waves his hand, and Todoroki can hear, _No it’s okay_. But his face looks irritated, and thankfully, Aizawa—who’s currently around—goes to them and starts talking to the customer, while Bakugou walks away.

Todoroki is about to clean up there, when Aizawa catches his eye and says, “You have a spare shirt right?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to him.”

So Todoroki leaves.

He knocks on Bakugou’s door, with the spare shirt in hands. “Bakugou? It’s me. I’m bringing you new shirt. I’m coming in.”

When he steps in, he sees Bakugou already taking off his shirt, and examines the stain. Bakugou is wearing a black tank-top. He looks up at Todoroki.

“Here,” Todoroki steps closer, handing him the clothes.

Bakugou—Bakugou grabs _Todoroki’s wrist,_ pulling him closer, and he blinks, confused, before he realizes they are standing close— _really_ close, only their hands between them. Todoroki is only slightly taller than Bakugou, but he thinks, _It makes no difference_.

He looks at Bakugou—at his eyes, and… his lips.

The corner of Bakugou’s lips turn up, and Todoroki thinks, _Oh no._

Before he can process that thought any further, or before he can pull away—Bakugou presses his lips to Todoroki’s.

Bakugou’s eyes are open, _boring_ into Todoroki’s, challenging him. Challenging Todoroki to what? To pull Bakugou away? To close his eyes? Todoroki doesn’t know, but he chooses to close his eyes, and kisses Bakugou back; opening his mouth slightly, and Bakugou tilts his head, his tongue slides on Todoroki’s lower lip.

_Oh. So this is how Bakugou tastes like_.

Bakugou’s lips are slightly chapped, but still soft. And there is a faint taste of coffee, but maybe Todoroki is imagining it because Bakugou smells like one, having been around the coffee machine for eight hours a day.

Bakugou lets go of Todoroki’s wrist, and wraps his arm around Todoroki’s waist, pulling him closer. Todoroki puts his hand on Bakugou’s hair, pulling it to tilt Bakugou’s head. Bakugou gasps, and Todoroki moves his lips to Bakugou’s jaw. He wants—he _needs_ to—

The door is slammed, and they pull away, looking at the door; it is still open. The footsteps come closer, and it _must be_ Aizawa, checking up on them.

They look at each other; cheeks flushing, lips swollen, and somehow the spare shirt is on the floor. Todoroki grabs it and hands it to Bakugou. He accepts it for real, and starts wearing it. When Aizawa shows up by the door, Bakugou is already buttoning the shirt.

“What takes you so long?”

“Nothing,” replies Todoroki, quickly, _too_ quickly. He clears his throat, “Uh, Bakugou wants to know how to remove the stain.”

“Huh,” mutters Aizawa. “Is that so.”

They don’t answer, just waiting for Aizawa to say something else. Something like, _I know what you two were doing_. Or, _We still have customers, aren’t you ashamed of yourself_.

But, nothing.

Aizawa just sighs and, “Let’s go back.”

*

Todoroki had, once, been taught that the way to _eat_ is with a little bit of hunting: to find the perfect one, with perfect skin and perfect amount of fat, with a great smell, and preferably, the ones where they can’t be easily allured. The slowest they take their time to trust, is the better they will taste.

Todoroki’s father likes that kind of human.

Todoroki wonders, though, if the human ever realizes it that: when the ghoul sees them, all they can see is _food_ , served right in front of them, all smiling and laughing and all the ghoul can think of is, _I want to eat you now_.

His head is spinning, and he _must_ catch his breath, but he doesn’t want to let go, until Bakugou pulls at his hair and Todoroki groans, tilting his head. Bakugou moves to touch, to nip at his jaw and neck, and lower, as Bakugou’s hand start unbuttoning Todoroki’s shirt, until eventually—

Maybe that is what Bakugou thinks of him, now, in his room, him being pressed against the wall again, with the way Bakugou kisses him, touches him, all mouth and tongue on his skin, and that _one_ time Bakugou uses his hands is to brush the skin under Todoroki’s shirt, while still kissing, nibbling ( _teeth_ , Todoroki thinks, _he touches with mouth and tongue and teeth_ ) Todoroki’s neck, and Todoroki leans his head back on the wall, still panting, trying to suppress the moan and sigh, even though there is no one there, and outside—the cafe is already closed.

Bakugou finds the skin where he bit Todoroki. His thumb feels it, stroking it so lightly.

“It healed alright?” He asks. Todoroki nods.

“Good,” he mutters before leaning in—and Todoroki for a second thinks, _Is he going to bite me again—_ and leaves a kiss there, just above the scar. Then another.

Bakugou’s breath feels warm and _tickling_ on Todoroki’s shoulder, and—Bakugou _bites_ , making Todoroki’s knees buckle and he has to hold on to Bakugou, but it feels different—

It _is_ different. Bakugou nips and sucks, but he doesn’t tear it away. The slight pain makes it even more… _satisfying_.

Todoroki finally makes some noise—a long, broken moan—when Bakugou’s hands rest on his back, pressing Todoroki’s body together to his. Bakugou feels warm and solid and Todoroki is suddenly very aware of how Bakugou’s chest is moving up and down. Todoroki searches for something to hold on and his hands rest on Bakugou’s head and nape—pushing Bakugou closer, _closer_ , as Bakugou leans up and licks the skin below Todoroki’s ear, making Todoroki tremble and his grip is even tighter, his knuckles turn white. Bakugou pulls away—still in Todoroki’s grasp—and Bakugou’s red eyes, filled with hunger and lust and Todoroki once again thinks of how he’s taught to _prey_.

_I don’t mind_ , he decides, _I don’t mind to get eaten if he looks at me like that._

He pulls Bakugou in for another kiss.

*

And another.

*

But as soon as it started—it also ends _too soon_. Bakugou pulls away, and walks out, leaving Todoroki still breathless and panting, and Todoroki can still smell coffee on Bakugou’s skin and—

_What the hell was that._

*

Bakugou leaves a purplish bruise on Todoroki’s skin.

Todoroki huffs, and feels grateful that _at least_ Bakugou is decent enough to leave it in the place where it can be covered with clothes.

*

“But, dude, what will _happen_ if ghouls start to eat their own kind?”

Kirishima is sitting on the counter, arms flailing as he excitedly tells them—Bakugou, Todoroki, and Kayama—about his ghouls theory.

It’s always been like this: Kirishima, goes into a cafe where his classmates since high school work. Kirishima, sits down and orders a cup of coffee (preferably made by Bakugou, but other’s works also just fine for him). Kirishima, talks about _ghouls_ as if his friends are not a bunch of that.

Well, not that Kirishima is aware of it.

“Shut up and finish your coffee,” says Bakugou. “Then leave.”

This time, Todoroki lets his memory flashing in his mind, as he watches both Bakugou and Kirishima; there were his classmates, huddled around him, asking him where he was coming from, what had brought him there, and started quizzing him about his life, and when they started to the part _why_ he brought a guitar case instead of school bag, he got up, and left.

They never came close to him again. Until one day, Todoroki had let someone—and then more—came close to him.

Before he can think of it more, he darts his eyes to them; still arguing about how long will it take for Kirishima to finish his coffee. Bakugou catches his eyes and barks, “You got something to say, Todoroki?”

Todoroki blinks, “...What?”

Kirishima pouts, “How come you called him by his name while all you got for me is _Shitty Hair_?”

“That’s because your hair is fucking shitty,” spits Bakugou.

“Yours is just the same as mine.”

“ _What the fuck did you say you—_ “

“Ah, gotta go now!” Kirishima stands up, “Catch up with you guys later!”

When Kirishima has walked out of the cafe, Todoroki turns to Bakugou, whispering, “He… doesn’t know?”

“Of course not,” Bakugou picks up Kirishima’s cup and turns around to bring it to the sink. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I just want to make sure.”

“Of what?” Bakugou turns to Todoroki, “Of our safety? We’re not weak, thank you for asking, though.”

Todoroki looks around; it is quiet, no customer in sight other than Kirishima who just left. It is a dinnertime for humans, and Erase Sleep doesn’t offer the comfiness of homemade food. They sell coffee and place to sit down and chat.

“Even after all these things that had happened to you for the past few days?”

There, Todoroki has said it. He watches Bakugou’s eyes squint and a frown on his forehead appears; an expression Todoroki knows well that Bakugou’s still thinking about those nights when he had gotten hurt.

Todoroki must have been watching Bakugou for so long, he already knows what kind of face Bakugou will be making; his lips pressed together to make a thin line on his face, his jaw clenching, and he glares at Todoroki.

“That’s not your fucking business, Todoroki.”

“Bakugou—“

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Bakugou says, his voice lowers down and it _can be_ heard he’s almost whispering to Todoroki, only the whispers are full of venom and threats, “That _none_ _of these_ are your fucking business. Not even about Kirishima, not even about _me_.”

“I let you—“ Todoroki’s voice drifts off, as he struggles to find another word to explain. _I let you eat me_. _I let you to live. I saved you._

Bakugou’s hand balls into a fist. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Without realizing, Todoroki has been rubbing the wrist Bakugou had bitten that night, and Bakugou sees it. Bakugou looks away, and said, “You already regret it.”

_Don’t fucking pretend like you give any shit_.

Bakugou has already turned to the dirty cups and plates, and starts turning the water. The sound of water running down and hitting the plates is loud, filling the silence between them, replacing the unspoken reply from Todoroki.

_I do give any shit, Bakugou_.

Sighing, Todoroki grabs a rag to clean up the counter, when he sees a wallet on the stool where Kirishima sat. He opens it and finds Kirishima’s ID Card, money, train pass, and pretty much everything else that will get Kirishima in trouble if he doesn’t realize it soon.

Todoroki glances at Bakugou and the wallet in his hand; he needs to get out of there, to give Bakugou some space and, preferably, when he comes back, Bakugou is still willing to talk.

So Todoroki takes off his apron, “I’m going to catch on to him—Kirishima left his wallet.”

Todoroki leaves without Bakugou turning off the water or saying anything. He doesn’t even look back.

*

Todoroki doesn’t know where he’s heading; but he is _sure_ Kirishima was heading this way.

This ward is strange, almost empty, unlike the place he used to live with so many people around, bustling and walking fast and Todoroki _has to_ pick up the pace.

“Matsumoto-kun!”

He stops and turns at the voice—out of the habit—and finds a girl in high school uniform, waving at the boy who’s probably the Matsumoto-kun she called out.

_Matsumoto_ , he mouths the name, tries it without even sounding it.

_Matsumoto Shouto_ , was what he had introduced himself in front of the class, a year and half ago.

_Matsumoto-kun, good morning!_

_Matsumoto-kun, have you done the math homework?_

_Matsumoto-kun!_

_Matsumoto-kun!_

Todoroki Shouto had always been Todoroki Shouto, but _before_ , he was Matsumoto Shouto, a high school boy with guitar case on his shoulder instead of school bag, and everyone thought he was just distant, whereas he didn’t know how to make friends.

_Gain as many informations in that school as possible_ , was how he was instructed.

He was good at many things; at how finding an opening from an enemy, at attacking, at defending on his feet—but he didn’t know how to start a conversation.

Then, it all started with a girl with ponytail sitting beside him, offering to share a biology textbook because he forgot to bring his. The girl smelled human but there was some certainty in her that made him feel at ease.

_Yaoyorozu. My name is Yaoyorozu Momo_ , she told him, when he admitted he didn’t remember her name.

Then, it also started with Yaoyorozu called him to have lunch together, and she and her friends eventually gave him their foods, which he reluctantly accepted. As he chewed rice and egg, he learned their names.

_Midoriya Izuku._

_Uraraka Ochako._

_Iida Tenya._

_Jirou Kyouka_.

He had asked them how to write their names, which led to them giving him their contacts.

Todoroki has been aching for the phone—the one he used that time, which had their contacts, just to be sentimental, just to assure that if he tries, someone on the other side will pick up his call, and he’ll tell them about him working in Erase Sleep, and one of his co-worker’s name is Bakugou Katsuki, who taught him how to make coffee.

But the phone had been long gone, taken away from him, destroyed, along with everything that had come for him: his mother, his friends, his—at least, what he thought it is— _normal_ life, where he could once pretend there was no ghouls nor humans, and there was no _Todoroki Shouto_ , a shadowy figure in distant that was working for Commission of Counter Ghoul; but only _Matsumoto Shouto_ , with a guitar case on his shoulder instead of school bag, refusing to play a song for his friends, and laughing when they were sulking about it.

Seeing Kirishima and Bakugou reminds Todoroki of how little time he had, with their friends.

Todoroki doesn’t know how long he has been walking, or if he has any idea where he currently is, but it is still quiet, without any passing pedestrian or car, and suddenly he is _aware_ of his surrounding.

It is too quiet.

“Shouto, I found you.”

He turns and finds himself surrounded by people, with black suits and hats and suitcase in their hands.

_Doves_ , is what ghouls call them.

Todoroki used to be one of them.

His eyes find the owner of the voice that had called him. It belongs to a tall man with staples and stitches on his face, the stitches had been pulled up from the corner of his mouth to his ears. But Todoroki has known him, he has known how the man’s face looked like before all those stitches.The man is also holding a suitcase.

“Nii-san,” he says. _Dabi_. Another name is on his tongue, a name that he has not called for a long time, a name that his brother doesn’t have a right to take, a name that Todoroki still sometimes whispered in his nightmares, pleading for help.

But the man in front of him is _Dabi_ , now.

Dabi grins, the sight of it makes him more threatening.

Todoroki waits, his hands are twitching, wanting to hold on to something—anything. His guitar case has also been destroyed.

Todoroki waits, his feet steady, he can feel his kagune, ready to grow and defend.

Todoroki waits.


	2. scraped teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you on his side?” Todoroki asks, before Dabi’s quinque can strike him. Will he stab him in the leg to make him go down? Or will he not even bother and just put a bullet through his head?.  
> Dabi grins. “Are you trying to distract me here, little brother? I am _never_ on his side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you've heard of soft vore now get ready for 
> 
> soft smut

_He was not Shouto, before. He was but an innocent child who knew nothing at all, smothered by his mother’s touch and kisses, and murmurs of comforting words, and her lullabies were the only thing that could make him quiet and listen._

_He was not Shouto, before._

_Then his wings grew; a pair made of white fibers with visible red veins—maybe also some blue and purple, but he was too young to acknowledge colors—and he wanted to ask his mother._

_His answer was a broken wing, his left side._

_And his mother, gone._

_One day, his father called, “Shouto.”_

_He stilled, thinking his father was just muttering, or calling someone else._

_He heard it again, “Shouto.”_

_He turned his head, and saw his father, with another boy, a few years older than him. It was the boy’s skin that made him not looking away, staring with wonder and amazement in his eyes. The boy grinned, understanding his curious gaze._

_“Shouto,” his father had called again. “This is your brother.”_

_He learned two things that day:_

_One, he was Shouto._

_Two, he had a brother._

*

After killing one or two—maybe five—of Dabi’s men, Todoroki manages to call out to him, as he avoided the sixth man’s attack.

“Don’t want to get your hand dirty, huh?”

“Nah, I just like to save the killing blow for myself,” replies Dabi, arms folding, as he watches Todoroki’s movement.

Todoroki has managed to snatch a quinque; a bikaku, probably from an S-rated ghoul. Not as strong as what he used to have, but Todoroki has taken five—now six—people down with it.

"Not going to use your kagune, eh, little brother?"

Todoroki manages to bring down another man with a kick to the temple— _seven_ —when he looks around for more, eyes wide, adrenaline snapping him awake. He was unaware of the pain meant to come with the blood trickling down his arms when he realizes he is surrounded by the Doves, their quinques pointed at him. 

Dabi takes a step closer. “How sad… Todoroki Shouto,” he said. Each syllable is enunciated slowly and Todoroki winces; Dabi never yells. Their father was loud, shouts erupting from within, but _Dabi_ is all of quiet, made of whispered secrets he could tell. Except the one who hears it has to die. Literally.

“Not even your wings can help you now,” Dabi continues, and Todoroki looks at his brother. He remembers the face that used to look _normal,_ with soft skin and a boyish smile that reached his eyes. Todoroki wonders _when_ his brother had changed, and why. Was it because Todoroki has always been the strongest, although he never uses his kagune? Was it because Dabi has never grown any kagune, and is a failure in their father’s eyes?

Todoroki stands steady on his feet; panting from the fight, sweats rolling down his face and making his shirt cling to him. He can feel a sharp pain on his side, and his arm, now the adrenaline starts to wear off, and he grows jaded. He is tired from running, he is tired from having to look over his shoulder to make sure he is _safe_. 

He wants to laugh—he forgot to check over his shoulder _once_ and look where it got him.

Dabi’s eyes are hard and cold, unreadable. Todoroki has never been able to guess Dabi’s next move. Todoroki knows what offer he’ll give Todoroki: surrender, or die.

Todoroki doesn’t like either choice.

Dabi takes another step closer; his suitcase already shifts into a quinque—a quinque _Todoroki_ knew well. Todoroki’s right hand aches to touch it, to _hold_ it, to have it wrapped around his arm and feel it pulsing under his fingertips—alive and ready to do whatever he wants.

The quinque was his. It used to be in his guitar case.

“Why are you on his side?” Todoroki asks, before Dabi’s quinque can strike him. Will he stab him in the leg to make him go down? Or will he not even bother and just put a bullet through his head?.

Dabi grins. “Are you trying to distract me here, little brother? I am _never_ on his side.” 

He raises his arm, the red veins in the quinque is visible and pulsing, the pearly tint radiating off its surface—

Todoroki hears it first: footsteps, fast, heads toward them, and then, _something else_ —as though something is emerging, ripping through cloth as it does and—

It comes from above.

Todoroki looks up; _someone_ jumps between them, landing right in front of Todoroki and slowly, stands up. Their kagune is a drill; spiraling on their arm, the point sharp, and hard, and—

“Hey, fucker,” they say from beneath a tiger mask Todoroki’s eyes widen.He recognizes the voice; even under the mask, where it sounds less coherent and muffled, he _knows_. 

_Bakugou_.

“This is _my_ territory,” Bakugou say, “so if you want a taste of this dickhead right here, it’ll have to be over my dead body.”

“Well,” Dabi says, looking unsurprised—Todoroki has never managed to surprise his brother—though amused. “I’m afraid most people here don’t have the appetite for that.”

Todoroki can hear the smirk in Bakugou’s voice, “Then _who_ does?”

“Me.”

The adrenaline comes rushing back to Todoroki.He pulls Bakugou down just as Dabi shoots. Then, chaos.

“—Bakugou?”

“The fuck was that? Is that _your_ fucking kagune?”

Todoroki’s kagune—his right side—surrounds them, muffling the noise outside. Todoroki closes his eyes, listening, as he tried to find a way through. There were five people on his right, shooting at his kagune, and four more on his left, trying to poke, _to stab them_ , but he can’t find Dabi.

He hears him. In front of him.

Right next to an opening.

“Turn around,” Todoroki orders, before Bakugou has a chance to open his mouth, “When I open up, _shoot_ the man in front of you. _Shoot_ , don’t _attack_ ; then run.”

“How the fuck do you—“

“On my count.”

“Oi—“

“ _NOW!”_ Todoroki makes a slight opening behind Bakugou, who is quick to turn around, his arm raises and let off a blast.

A loud one. 

Todoroki can’t see clearly but he feels someone grabbing his elbow to drag him and hears a shout: “ _Get a fucking move on!”_

And so they ran.

*

“Use your kagune again to cover us!”

“We’ll attract attention.”

“Should’ve fucking said that before you told me to blow them up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”

*

Todoroki’s luck should’ve run out by now. He was lucky Aizawa found him; he was lucky he hada place to stay, and he was lucky he survived.He wonders how long his luck would hold out..

*

Todoroki doesn’t know where Bakugou is taking him.

Now that they manage to escape and the adrenaline runs out Todoroki takes the time to try and stop the bleeding, but fails. Bakugou notices—nothing ever really escapes Bakugou’s sharp eyes.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“Where are we even going?”

“My place, dumbass.”

Todoroki has no idea what kind of place Bakugou is staying in; is it clean and neat, or messy and disorganized? Bakugou is still trying for college—does he have books in the living room or bedroom? Is Bakugou the type to forget to turn off the TV when he leaves? 

Bakugou takes one last look behind them, and says, “Mine’s 201, just beside the stairs.” He throw his keys. Todoroki catches them, eyebrow raise. “I’m going to check to see if anyone’s following us.”

Todoroki gives a nod, too tired for words. He practically drags himself up the stairs, and it takes him two tries to open the door, his hands shaking from blood loss. He falls down in the _genkan_ , kicks off his shoes weakly, and lies there, an arm shielding his eyes, as he tries to focus, to even out his breathing.

He can hear Bakugou when he returned, his steady footsteps as he climbs the stairwell, his breath uneven, before he steps inside, and locks the door. Todoroki can smell him before Bakugou opens his mouth. Todoroki expects something gruff— _are you still fucking alive—_.but Bakugou’s voice, so close to Todoroki’s ear, only said, “can you get up?”

His breath is so warm— _Bakugou_ is so warm, “Can you get up?” His hand wraps around Todoroki’s wrist—even _his hand_ is warm and comforting and Todoroki nods slowly, not wanting Bakugou to let go.

Bakugou doesn’t. He helps Todoroki to his feet, wrapping his arm around Todoroki’s hips, and Todoroki has to keep himself from leaning too much into Bakugou. 

The room is small—a simple studio, an open door leading to the bathroom on their right side, a window.

Everything is in its right place. The books are stacked neatly on the table, and beside it lies a futon, unmade. Bakugou leads Todoroki to the other side, before he made his way to the fridge and grabs a package. Todoroki knows what it is; he can smell it even before Bakugou opens the fridge. His mouth waters.

“Eat,” Bakugou says, as he throws Todoroki the package and turns away to give him some privacy.

Todoroki _has_ eaten with friends before; sitting around the table, passing bowls and chopsticks with a loud, _Itadakimasu!_ That was when he was eating _human food_.

Eating _human_ is a different story; it’s messy, and Todoroki has always been a sloppy eater. He can feel blood rolling down his chin, and when he goes to wipe it, he forgets and uses the hand already covered in blood.

He doesn’t care; savouring the taste and feel of soft meat on his tongue, as he bites into the tender parts and swallows graciously.

Once finished, he licks the blood from his hands and fingers. When he looks up, Bakugou’s eyes were on him; the same eyes he watched Todoroki with before.

 _I wouldn’t mind being eaten if he looks at me like that_. The thought warms Todoroki’s cheeks, but before he can say anything, Bakugou hands him a box of tissues. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he said. “Clean that up so I can take care of your injuries.”

Todoroki obliges. He grabs a handful of tissues and wipes his hands and mouth as Bakugou leaves and returns with a first aid kit.

“First aid kit? _Really?_ ” Todoroki feels fine; now he has eaten, he is not as light-headed.

“You’re _half-human,_ ” barks Bakugou. He sits in front of Todoroki. “Take off your shirt.”

Todoroki blinks, “What?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Need to check for injuries.”

“My arms,” Todoroki starts, but stops upon seeing the look Bakugou gives him. He nods, “Okay.”

Todoroki winces as he pulls his shirt over his head. The backside is ripped—probably from when he used his kagune. He is about to ask Bakugou for a spare shirt, when Bakugou leans in to examine his arms, shoulders, and a scrape on his side he hadn’t noticed.

Bakugou’s hands are soft, his touch light and gentle. Todoroki almost feels nothing—no pain, his eyes are focused on Bakugou. Maybe it’s the blood loss that made Todoroki feels light-headed and dizzy; maybe it’s because Todoroki finds Bakugou’s beauty when his mind and eyes are focused on elsewhere. Or maybe it’s because Bakugou’s eyes shimmer, and stand out in the dark, trapping Todoroki until he can’t look away. Until he doesn’t want to.

Those eyes stare back at him, and when Bakugou opens his mouth slightly, Todoroki wants to taste Bakugou’s lips again. All Todoroki can think of was how close they are—Bakugou’s breath warm on his arm, and if Todoroki just lifts his other hand he can touch Bakugou’s face…

But Bakugou lowers his eyes and the magic’s gone. Todoroki clenches his fists, and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He tries to focus on anything else, butthe pain of his injuries, which seems better now that he has eaten, are overpowered by the feel of Bakugou’s long fingers as he carefully sanitizes the skin around the stab wound.

Again, Todoroki shakes his head. He should be focused on _anything other_ than Bakugou; but he can’t. He doesn’t want to. Everything about Bakugou draws him closer and closer, and he wishes it; to be as close as possible, to leave no space between them. 

In a last ditch effort to distract himself, he asked: “Is Aizawa-san in Erase Sleep?”

Bakugou stills, hand left to hang in the air, refusing to meet Todoroki’s eye for the briefest of moments before, just as quickly, Bakugou returns back to normal. “He isn’t,” he said.

“Then… are Kayama-san and Yamada-san there?”

“No, I—“ Bakugou cuts himself off with a sigh, and puts down the bottle of alcohol. “I closed it.”

Todoroki frowns, “Why?”

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair and sighs loudly. “Because I wanted to find you.”

“Why did you do that?”

Bakugou presses his lips into a thin line, and looks away. “To talk. About what I said to you.”

 _—Oh_ , Todoroki remembers now; the conversation they had before Todoroki walked out to return Kirishima his wallet.he was supposed to give Kirishima his wallet back. It feels like ages ago. 

Todoroki bites his lower lip, “I… I know it’s none of my business, but,” he tries, “I had _friends_ who were human too—“

“Were?”

It is Todoroki’s turn to lower his gaze. “Were,” he repeats. 

Bakugou says nothing, neither does Todoroki. Whatever moment they have passed without incident, so Todoroki’s mind drifts elsewhere, as Bakugou takes care of Todoroki’s wounds in silence.

Once finished, Bakugou offers Todoroki another _package_ , to “fucking heal faster”, according to Bakugou. Todoroki only nods..

Carefully, Todoroki opens the package.

“Do you have any spare shirts I could borrow?” he asks.

“You’re such a messy eater, you’d ruin it.”

Todoroki shrugs, “Fair,” he says, before resuming his meal.

Bakugou says no more.

Rather than feeling full, it feels more like a chore. Blood drips from his fingers, and he is reminded of their previous conversation. It echoes in the room and it’s nauseating The meat turns heavy in his arms and a piece got lodged in his throat. He has to force himself to finish when—

“What does cake taste like?”

The question caught him off guard. Todoroki blinks, looks up at Bakugou, who has seated with a knee tucked under his chin as he watches Todoroki, “What?”

“I said, what does cake taste like?”

“Uh,” Todoroki tries to remember the last time he had eaten cake— _had he ever_ , though? His childhood wasn’t filled with birthdays and other parties; he spent most of his life at the Academy, but Bakugou _can’t_ know this.

Searching his memories, an image of strawberry shortcake flashes in his mind, followed by the smiling faces of his friends as they, surrounding him, sang _Happy Birthday_. or a moment Todoroki is smiling.

“Sweet,” is all that he comees up with, fully expecting a snort from Bakugou in response.

To Todoroki’s surprise, Bakugou only replies with, “Really?”

“Yeah… it's soft too. The sweetness actually comes from the cream.”

“And… the fruits?”

“It depends. Strawberries are mostly sweet with a slight sourness to them. Cherries are sweet with a strong scent.”

Bakugou didn’t ask anymore questions, mind wandering elsewhere. Todoroki doesn’t pry. Not anymore. He takes another bite and chews.

Todoroki is already finished his meal before Bakugou speaks, “Kirishima likes sweets.”

Todoroki waits.

“He always asks me to come with him to try some cakes at his favorite bakery. He even went so far as to try and convince Sensei to add desert menu in the cafe...” Bakugou trails off, before adding, “He failed, of course.”

Todoroki smiles, “Sounds like him.”

Bakugou snorts and shakes his head, “That fucking idiot.”

Todoroki is still smiling, the smile is half-frozen on his face when Bakugou looks up and… Bakugou looks so _content_ , as he reaches out to wipe off something from the corner of Todoroki’s mouth with his thumb. 

Bakugou licks his thumb. “Messy eater.”

The tone sounds playful, teasing, and maybe because Bakugou has slowly, lowered down his wall, that Todoroki finds himself asking, “Why did you kiss me?”

Bakugou’s expression doesn’t change.

“Because I wanted to,” he replies. Then, “You didn’t?”

Todoroki swallows, licking his lips, and Bakugou clearly sees it: his expression changed just _slightly_ , and the look in his eyes—

It is a look Todoroki has known too well; it was there when they parted from their kisses, filled with hunger and lust, and he just wants it as much as Bakugou.

He asks, “Is there anything left on my face?”

Bakugou leans in, his hand reaching out, brushing Todoroki’s chin, “Here,” Bakugou says, mouth warm, lips soft as they press against Todoroki’s chin.

“Here,” Bakugou moves to the corner of Todoroki’s mouth, pecking it softly, and Todoroki shivers.

Bakugou’s hand moves to his neck, and his heart beats faster—he knows Bakugou can feel it. “Here,” Bakugou murmurs against his neck. Bakugou’s hand brushes Todoroki’s skin lower, _lower_ , and Todoroki is shivering at the tingle it leaves on his skin. Never has Todoroki been more grateful to be shirtless.

Bakugou looks at Todoroki, his other hand on Todoroki’s cheek, thumb pressed against Todoroki’s lips, “And here.”

When Bakugou leans in to press his lips against Todoroki’s, Todoroki has known how it will be going: slow, a mere peck from Bakugou, both with their eyes still open, as if Bakugou is challenging him.

Todoroki sighs, closes his eyes, and pulls Bakugou closer.

Bakugou’s tongue brushes against Todoroki’s lower lip, gently, and Todoroki opens his mouth, as Bakugou inserts his tongue in, slightly, taking the lead and Todoroki has to hold on to Bakugou’s arm, the dizziness does not vanish after he closes his eyes. but if anything, he feels _more_ light-headed. Kissing Bakugou feels like he forgets how to breathe, and he can’t think of anything but _Bakugou is so warm, he tastes like coffee and like fresh, juicy meat that probably he just ate before working_. 

And Todoroki doesn’t find it displeasing, he just wants _more_.

When they pulled away, breathless, foreheads touching, Todoroki still wants _more_. He can’t get enough; he wants to let his hands wander on Bakugou, he wants to know if Bakugou’s skin is just as soft as his cheeks, he wants to know if Bakugou will just taste as good as his scent, he wants Bakugou whispering, _moaning_ , his name—Todoroki _can’t_ get enough.

Bakugou looks at him again, and Todoroki nods. Bakugou’s face gets, closer and _closer_ , and his lips touch Todoroki’s. This time, it’s different; no one to interrupt them, and they can take their time, knowing what will come next. They take their time to taste, to savor, to _finally learn_ about each other slowly as their hands roam. It is when their touch becomes more heated, feverish, that their kisses turn into something desperate even as they pull away to breathe—they never leave each other. Bakugou moves down, to Todoroki’s neck and collarbone, he _pecks_ —Bakugou pecks a lot, and it’s worse and better at the same time, _teasing_ Todoroki as he is already missing the wet lap of Bakugou’s tongue, and Bakugou’s teeth grazing his skin.

There are too many layers between them, and Todoroki wants to _feel_ Bakugou all over, skin meets skin.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki whispers, “Take off your clothes.”

Bakugou pulls away, a smirk hanging on his face. “My pants too? Or we’ll get to it later?”

Todoroki bites his lip; words have failed him into mustering up a comeback, and Bakugou knows this. “Later,” he says, looking away from Bakugou’s smug face. He hears rustle of fabric hitting floor, and glances. Todoroki hasn’t seen Bakugou without a shirt on—the closest he has seen is Bakugou in a black tanktop that shows his arms, and the shirt fits rather nicely. 

But _this_ is better than Todoroki’s expectations. Bakugou is taut and built. Todoroki wants to reach, to _feel_ , not just with his hand.

 _Beautiful_.

The smirk is still on Bakugou’s face, but he doesn’t say anything, letting Todoroki stare. 

“Can I touch you?” Todoroki asks.

Bakugou nods, waiting, his face looking more serious as Todoroki pulls himself to close the space, placing his legs around Bakugou, before his hand moves to brush the bare skin lightly, deliberately, watching Bakugou’s reaction. Todoroki realizes Bakugou’s been holding his breath. 

Todoroki leans in for a kiss; except it’s on Bakugou’s cheek, eyelids, forehead, nose, but _never_ on the lips, as Todoroki grazes Bakugou, touching, _feeling_ the texture; soft skin, hard muscle, jagged scars—

It isn’t until Todoroki’s hands move to Bakugou’s back that Bakugou pulls him closer until their chests brush, and Todoroki exhales loudly, gripping Bakugou’s back. Bakugou’s breath is warm on Todoroki’s shoulder, and when his lips softly brush the skin where Todoroki’s ukaku is, Todoroki lets out a moan; the voice replacing the silence between them, and he covers his mouth with his hand, feeling embarrassed. 

“I want to hear you,” Bakugou murmurs to Todoroki’s skin, and Todoroki, slowly, lowers his hand and focuses more on Bakugou; his fingers touching, grazing, even pinching slightly, because Bakugou is _here_ , _in_ his arms, and Todoroki wants to make sure this is not another wet dream of his, that he won’t wake up with another sticky feeling between his legs.

Todoroki rakes his nails on Bakugou’s shoulder blade, inching down to where his kakuhou is. Bakugou groans, and Todoroki understands what he means _I want to hear you_ , because none of these are _enough_ for Todoroki.

So Todoroki’s lips move to Bakugou’s neck, nibbling and sucking, mimicking Bakugou, while his hands still are still tracing Bakugou’s back and front. Bakugou seems not to mind Todoroki copying his movements, if anything, he moans his agreement.

And still, Todoroki wants _more_.

Bakugou thrusts up, and Todoroki lets another gasp. His mind is spinning because the friction from the layers between them still feels _amazing_.

Bakugou’s hand is on Todoroki’s crotch; the pressure from Bakugou’s hand makes Todoroki moan and slightly tremble. Bakugou’s fingers are fumbled with Todoroki’s pants and he unzips them, pulls them down Todoroki’s slightly, and—

Todoroki buries his face in Bakugou’s neck to muffle his groan as Bakugou strokes his length. Todoroki’s hands were also searching, he wants to make Bakugou feel good, _embarrassingly_ good, like what Todoroki is currently feeling.

Bakugou guides him, and they both groan as they’re touching, skin to skin, without any layers between them. They move—jerking their hips toward each other, stroking; Todoroki licking the sweat on Bakugou’s collarbone, Bakugou’s hand grazing Todoroki’s kakuhou, and Todoroki’s senses are filled with _Bakugou_ : his smell, his voice, his taste, but it is still _not enough_.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki whispers, and as Bakugou slows down to hear Todoroki, he continues, “I want you.” He looks up and sees: Bakugou, red cheeks, wide eyes, lips slightly parted—Todoroki _wants_ him, fully, with no restrain and hesitation between them. Never has Todoroki wanted to feel like this with someone. Never has Todoroki wanted someone so badly.

“How?” Bakugou asks, his voice low with want and lust clouding on his eyes.

Todoroki bites his lower lip, looks away. The words are already on the tip of his tongue and then, “In… me.”

“Todoroki,” Bakugou says, “Have you done this before?”

Todoroki tenses and, “Does it really matter?”

Bakugou huffs, “If you don’t want to, we can just jerk off each other and stop here.”

“But…” Even after anything that has happened, Todoroki _still_ can’t get enough and wants _more_. “You… you _don’t_ want to…?” Todoroki sits up straight to look at Bakugou.

Bakugou sighs and rustles his hair. “I don’t want to deal with a fucking virgin.”

Todoroki snorts, for some reason, he finds it _funny_ that Bakugou actually cares about him.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says. “I won’t break. I can handle it.”

And even though he says it lightly, Bakugou still looks at him, carefully examining, inspecting Todoroki’s face, as if he knows Todoroki is hiding many, _many_ things.

Bakugou speaks, “I’m going to ask you this again: are you sure?”

Todoroki huffs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Bakugou’s shoulder; their movement has stopped, and Todoroki is still hard in Bakugou’s hand. “Yes.”

“You’re hurt,” Bakugou grazes his fingertips over the bandage he just wrapped around Todoroki’s arm a moment ago.

“I’m fine.”

Todoroki can feel Bakugou’s gaze on him, and as he opens his eyes to peek, Bakugou nods to the futon beside him. Todoroki moves and Bakugou leaves—takes off his jeans and tucks himself back in his underwear before leaving, probably to get something. As Todoroki sits on the futon, his hands shook with excitement and lust. When he reaches for the hem of his underwear—

Bakugou sits in front of him—dropping a bottle of lube and some condoms—and orders, “Lie down.”

Todoroki obliges, unsure of what Bakugou is going to do next, and surprised himself when Bakugou straddles his hip, and leans down. His breath hovers on Todoroki’s neck, and Todoroki closes his eyes and leans back, exposing his neck.

Bakugou continues on with what he was doing before; pecking, moving up to Todoroki’s ear to slightly bite, and Todoroki jolts, whining, his arms raised to pull Bakugou closer, _closer_ , until he feels Bakugou’s weight completely on him. Todoroki pants; as he is still hard and Bakugou is _pressed_ against him.

It seems like Bakugou thinks the same. He moves to Todoroki’s lips while his hand strokes Todoroki’s length, and swallows the moans Todoroki makes. Todoroki’s head is spinning—the kisses turn hurried, messy, with a string of saliva connecting them when they part to catch their breath—and Todoroki is _still_ aching for more. 

“Please,” Todoroki’s voice is raspy, out of breath, and Bakugou says nothing as he sits up, pulling Todoroki’s underwear all the way, and grabbed the lube, spurting it out. Todoroki sit up, leaning on his elbows, when Bakugou comes back to him, spreads his legs, and lay him down.

When Bakugou’s finger is about to enter Todoroki’s entrance, he grips Bakugou’s arm tight, leaning his forehead on Bakugou’s shoulder; he feels excited and afraid at the same time He has _never_ been this close to someone, _this_ intimate, with their bodies bare and open and spread out.

Bakugou turns, pressing his lips on Todoroki’s eye—the left one, “Relax,” he whispers. “I want you to feel good.”

Todoroki nods, “Yes,” he breathes, as he feels a finger enter, and he winces. Bakugou is watching him, so he nods again, “It doesn’t hurt. It’s… weird.”

Bakugou kisses him, slowly, and he tries to focus on that kiss, when Bakugou loosens him up, stretching him, and Todoroki exhales. Another finger follows, prodding, and then another, until it hits one spot that makes Todoroki roll his eyes back and moan, holding Bakugou tightly.

“You are—” He stops, trying to catch his breath. “Very good at this.”

“Of course I am, dumbass,” Bakugou responses as he pulls away to grab a condom, tears it open with his teeth, and rolls it on. Todoroki watches all of this, his body feels sticky with sweat.

Bakugou grips Todoroki’s thighs, as he slides inside and Todoroki shudders, and they both groan at the same time.

Bakugou presses his lips against Todoroki’s temple, “Hurts?”

Todoroki shakes his head, “No—no. I—“ He gulps, and tries to catch his breath as he feels himself trying to adjust to Bakugou.

Bakugou is also panting, “You are so tight.”

Todoroki touches Bakugou’s cheek, making him look at Todoroki, and Todoroki kisses him—he likes having Bakugou’s lips on his. When Bakugou kisses him back, he jerks his hips up and Bakugou bites his lower lip softly, groaning. 

“Can I—“ Bakugou groans again, when Todoroki moves, “Can I move?”

Todoroki breathes, “Yes,” as he wraps his arm around Bakugou’s shoulder, to pull him closer as their lips brush each other, and Bakugou moves. 

It is slow, and Todoroki stays still to take whatever he has given, to _feel_ it. Every sense is become clearer, sharper. Todoroki can see Bakugou above him, cheeks flushed and sweat on his face, as he restrains himself so as to not to hurt Todoroki. Todoroki can hear Bakugou’s panting and the low moan in his throat and the wet sound of their bodies joining, moving together; Todoroki can smell Bakugou on himself, the scent of lube, the meat he ate, and coffee, from Bakugou. Todoroki can feel _Bakugou_ in him; it is not a discomfort, but something entirely different and it is _so close_ to the spot where Todoroki finds pleasure when Bakugou fingered him open.

Todoroki moves, jerking his hips up, trying to keep up. “Faster,” he says, he _commands_ , wrapping his other leg around Bakugou’s hips, and they both groan as Bakugou buries deep inside of him. 

“So you can take it, after all.” Bakugou smirks, picking up the pace, mouth moving down to Todoroki’s neck and he _finally_ grazes his teeth on Todoroki’s skin, and Todoroki gasps, tilting his head, exposing his neck, and Bakugou uses the opportunity. 

Todoroki’s hand pulls at Bakugou’s hair, making Bakugou groan but not stopping, while Todoroki’s other hand rakes his nails on Bakugou’s kakuhou, where he knows it’s _Bakugou’s_ most sensitive spot for. Bakugou thrusts _faster_ , mouth now sucking the bite, and his one hand brushes Todoroki’s nipple, as his other moves lower and lower, until it finds Todoroki’s cock, and strokes.

Todoroki whimpers, “ _Harder_.”

Bakugou groans when he pulls out, untangling Todoroki’s leg around his hips and placing it on his shoulder, then he slams back inside, making Todoroki _shouts_ , eyes rolling to the back of his head, his body is trembling with pleasure, bending so hard it almost hurts. _So close_ , he is _so close_ , he thinks as he rakes Bakugou’s back, whining and gasping, while Bakugou continues to move, to hit Todoroki’s prostate, stroking Todoroki’s cock at the same pace, while his mouth is busy leaving marks on Todoroki.

Todoroki’s babbling, his mind can’t keep up with what he’s saying. He hears himself saying— _pleading—_ for Bakugou to go harder, _faster_ , and that Bakugou is so, so beautiful.

And he hears Bakugou, voice even lower than Todoroki’s, whispering that Todoroki feels really good—he is so good, so pretty, so _perfect_ , and Todoroki _took_ all of it; the praise, the thrusts, Bakugou’s voice calling his name over and over again—

His toes are curled, his body shudders, and his mouth is open in a silent scream, as he comes, and Bakugou keeps pumping him, spilling him onto his stomach, and later he hears Bakugou groan, biting his shoulder, and he holds onto Bakugou tighter when Bakugou’s body trembles. 

They stay that way for a while, and Todoroki is too tired to even think of Bakugou’s weight. He closes his eyes and can just fall asleep right then, right there. 

He feels Bakugou getting up, and he opens his eyes to find Bakugou staring at him, eyes glassy, mouth slack, hair messy, and Todoroki thinks, _Why is he so beautiful_? Bakugou reaches out to brush Todoroki’s hair that from his eyes, and leans down for another kiss. The kiss is slow, languid, Todoroki can feel Bakugou’s muscle under his hands is loosened up. When they pull away, Bakugou presses his lips to Todoroki’s left eye, and before Todoroki can say anything else, he holds Bakugou even tighter.

“Just,” he murmurs, “Stay like this. For a while.”

Bakugou does, placing his head on the crook of Todoroki’s neck, as they feel each other’s breath, chest rising up and down, pleasure is still on their skin.

Eventually, Bakugou rises, pulls out, and takes off the condom before tying the end and throwing it away. He turned back to Todoroki, looking at his injuries.

“I’m fine,” assures Todoroki. “I ate before. Twice.”

That still doesn’t stop Bakugou from checking, carefully grazing his fingertips over Todoroki’s body, as he examines the wounds. Todoroki stared at those hands that had just _touched, stroked_ him, that feels like just a minute ago, or a lifetime ago. 

Bakugou stands up, heading to the bathroom, and Todoroki sits up, hearing the water from the faucet, before Bakugou comes back with a wet cloth. Todoroki starts to reach out for the wet cloth when Bakugou sits in front of him and rubs Todoroki’s face with it. His hand moves down to rub Todoroki’s neck and chest, and Todoroki has to stifle a laugh.

“It tickles,” he explains.

Bakugou raises his eyebrows. “Oh it tickles now? Last I heard, you like it when I touch your body.”

Todoroki huffs, “Last I heard, you didn’t want to deal with a fucking virgin, but then you just fucked a virgin.”

“Well you’re no virgin anymore,” grunts Bakugou, still rubbing semen off Todoroki.

“That’s true…” Todoroki huffs again.

Bakugou stops, “What, you regret it?”

“ _What?_ No.” And when Bakugou doesn’t say anything else but continues rubbing Todoroki’s chest, Todoroki adds, “You’re very attentive.” 

“It’s a payback,” replies Bakugou, “For what you’ve did, earlier.”

“So the sex was _the payback_?” Todoroki’s tone is playful, teasing, but he can’t help thinking if this was the reason Bakugou obliged to Todoroki’s wishes.

Bakugou looks at him. “No. I also wanted it.”

Todoroki doesn’t expect the blunt honesty coming from Bakugou, but he nods. Then, after some reconsideration, he speaks. “Bakugou.” Bakugou looks up. “I never regret anything.”

He watches Bakugou dwell on what he said, on what _Bakugou_ had said, a lifetime ago, before Todoroki had left. 

Bakugou doesn’t say anything else, but leans in until his face is really close, and then says, “You’re healed alright.”

Todoroki finds Bakugou’s teeth against his skin has become something he gets used to.

*

To Aizawa’s credit, he doesn’t ask anything about why Todoroki and Bakugou come to the cafe together. He doesn’t ask why Todoroki is wearing Bakugou’s shirt, either. He doesn’t even bat an eye.

But during Todoroki’s break, he follows Todoroki to his room.

“I needed you to keep an eye on Bakugou,” says Aizawa, slamming the door shut behind him. “But it seems like you’ve done a good job.”

Todoroki lowers his gaze, feeling heat creeping up on his face. Before he can even open his mouth, Aizawa tells him about _Tiger_. _Tiger_ is what Bakugou Katsuki has been known to CCG. Todoroki recognizes the name instantly; before he left—ran away—he heard the news that _Tiger_ had killed two Doves. On purpose. He was hunting. 

But the attacks are random, and no one can predict which ward he’ll be hunt next. There were never any survivors. People died with their white coats stained red, and their suitcases opened.

No one knows what _Tiger_ ’s motive is.

Todoroki can still hear Bakugou’s silent cursing, smell of blood, and him laying almost lifelessly in Todoroki’s lap.

 _So that was why_.

“...His mother was killed in front of him,” continues Aizawa. “And he only just found out the Doves made quinque from his mother’s kagune.”

“How…” Todoroki voices, “How did he find out?”

Aizawa shrugs, “Don’t know, kid, but we usually trade informations here and there, you know, the usual, over coffee instead of alcoholic drink.”

Todoroki nods, and Aizawa proceeds, “They said something about _Fallen Angel_ —“

Todoroki grows quiet, but forces himself to watch Aizawa—who watches him back, his voice sounding monotone and flat.

“—And that’s where he got the idea. He started hunting them.”

Todoroki dares himself to reply, trying to voice his thought in a calm manner. “And you think I should keep an eye on him because…?”

“So far he hasn’t been hunting Doves from this ward,” replies Aizawa. “But who knows.”

“Okay.” Todoroki nods. “I’ll… try.”

“Thank you, Todoroki.” Aizawa bows, and Todoroki’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“You don’t have to—“

—But Aizawa is already leaving.

*

Bakugou has no idea about how much Todoroki has known.

Or maybe he is just playing dumb.

But how could Bakugou be dumb, Todoroki thinks to himself, when Bakugou knows how to push Todoroki to the edge, making him crumble and fall, and bring him back to his senses? How could Bakugou be dumb, when he is the one discovering Todoroki’s weaknesses; a little nip on his earlobe, a bite to his left nipple, and a _lick_ on his neck.

Maybe Bakugou is playing dumb, when he has seen Todoroki striped to the skin, and pretend the truths are there, said out loud.

*

“Where are you going?” 

Bakugou stills, back facing Todoroki, who is still laying in bed, his arm extending, reaching for Bakugou. 

“Going home,” replies Bakugou.

“Stay for the night. It’s late.” Todoroki says, suddenly awake and aware of Bakugou’s plans. 

_So far he hasn’t been hunting Doves from this ward. But who knows._

Bakugou still doesn’t face Todoroki. Instead he says, “Go back to sleep,” and leaves.

But Todoroki is quicker—already on his feet, one hand on Bakugou’s arm, pulling it slowly. 

Still Bakugou refuses to turn around, and Todoroki can only see: Bakugou’s hair, slightly ruffled from where Todoroki has _pulled_ , a crease on the collar, and the steady rise and fall of Bakugou’s breathing. 

Still Bakugou doesn’t say anything, and Todoroki tries a different tactic.

“Stay?” He says—he _asks_ , because he doesn’t want to push—Bakugou will hate that.

So Bakugou nods, and before Todoroki can say anything, he pulls Todoroki back to bed, arm wrapping around Todoroki, face buried in Todoroki’s nape. He never once meets Todoroki’s eyes.

Todoroki’s mind wanders to their first time; when Todoroki told him he once had human friends. _Had_. 

Todoroki closes his eyes again, while his hands held Bakugou’s arms around his stomach.

*

Sometimes, Todoroki can hear the question Bakugou wants to ask, when they lie beside each other, panting or even breathing, bare or already clothed.

_What did you do to the Doves to make them after you._

_What happened to your kagune._

_Where did you get the scar on your face_.

And, another: _Why did you even care_.

Sometimes the questions are said, silently, between kisses and touches, and Todoroki has taken all of it, has given all of it, because before, he knew nothing of how to indulge himself. And Todoroki almost, _almost_ answers, just so he can get one more kiss, just so he can get another brush on his skin, just so he can hear another whisper telling him he’s perfect.

*

One day, on a rare morning when Bakugou hasn’t woken up yet, Todoroki is the one to be up first. He hears some voices outside; in the cafe. He can hear voices, different; one is deep with not too much tone, and one is playful, kind of teasing and—

_Nii-san._

Carefully, Todoroki untangles himself from Bakugou’s arms, and slowly, trying not to make any sound, goes outside, until he is standing in front of the door to the cafe. Heart beating fast, difficulty breathing, hands twitching, he tries not to make any noise when he closes his eyes and tries to listen.

 _He found me_. 

“What are you _really_ doing here,” Todoroki hears Aizawa says.

“I heard you have two young men working here,” Dabi answers.

“They are my students.”

“Are you sure, _Sensei?_ ” Dabi replies, singsong, with emphasis on what he called Aizawa, and Todoroki tenses; he _knews_ where this is going. “One of them could be my brother.”

“No one looking like you works here.”

“Maybe you haven’t seen _all_ , like you have seen me.”

There is a pause, and, then Aizawa’s voice is heard, clear and stern. “Leave.”

Todoroki can hear footsteps; one, two, and then Dabi’s voice is low, but Todoroki can hear the smirk in his voice. He knows the pattern; Dabi, all teasing with a taunt in his voice, all smiles with the hunt in his eyes. 

“See you around, _Sensei._ ”

Todoroki stays where he stands, until he hears the door pulled open and shut closed. That is when he can breathe normally and tries to proceed the conversations from before.

He has to leave.

*

Todoroki considers his options; leaving without saying anything, or leaving after telling _everything_. This is not a mission, he reminds himself. _All_ of this—him working in Erased Sleep and knowing these people… are _allowed_. He has no one to report to, he has no one to tell him what to do. This is not a mission.

He is still considering it when Bakugou kisses him, again, and again. Kisses that have made him difficult to breathe, but still he yearns for more.

Bakugou seems to know Todoroki is distracted, as he moves his lips to Todoroki’s ear, and his hands go under Todoroki’s shirt, tracing his skin and Todoroki shivers at the familiarity.

“Don’t think,” Bakugou says. “Feel me.”

So Todoroki does.

*

Later, that night, they are clothed because suddenly Bakugou wants to have a cup of coffee.

(Who even drinks caffeine in the middle of the night when they are about to sleep, Todoroki wonders, but is too tired to wonder out loud.)

It is raining outside, the wind blows heavily, and the lightning flashes behind the curtain. They do not turn on the light, as they have left the door to the corridor open, and from that light, Todoroki watches Bakugou make coffee.

Without Bakugou’s touch to distract him, Todoroki’s mind wanders, again.

He tries to imagine what will Bakugou think, if suddenly Todoroki disappears, without a trace.

Then Todoroki remembers the nights when he waits until Bakugou falls asleep, or how he will be easily woken up when Bakugou stirs in his sleep.

Todoroki knows it is no fair and that Bakugou will hate his _goddamn guts_ if he does all these things he dreaded Bakugou doing; leaving him, not knowing if he will return or not.

Before Bakugou can pour the hot water into his cup, the glass windows break, and the Doves swarm in.

*

Todoroki does not hear them because of the heavy rain. His instincts and adrenaline kicked in and he can feel his kagune emerging—

He looks down and sees a bullet piercing his stomach. He can still feel his kagune, but his body has gone weaker. 

_RC-Suppressants bullet._

*

A few years ago, when he was still young and the wound on his face had not yet healed properly, he had gone out of control. His kagune emerged, a large wing coming from his right shoulder-blade, and shot everything and everyone around him. It was chaos.

His father was nowhere to be seen.

But then a bullet shot through his right foot, making him fall. Then another, in the shoulder, and he could feel his kagune shriveling, as his eyes became heavy and he nearly passed out.

Nearly, because he was conscious enough to see who shot him those bullets: his brother, wearing the same grin he put on when they first met.

*

It is not easy to bring down both Todoroki and Bakugou.

They fight; with all strength they have left, without their kagune.

But they are outnumbered.

Eventually, another bullet pierced Todoroki. This time, in the neck. He fell down. At the corner of his eye, he could see Bakugou does the same.

He has no strength left to make a sound.

Then, it is quiet, as the Doves around them have seen they both have been immobilized. Their hoods are up, and Todoroki cannot see their faces. But the voices—they sound familiar.

“Bring him,” one of them says.

“What about the other one?”

“He’s not our business.”

 _Of course_.

*

When Todoroki opens his eyes, he’s already tied to a chair. He can see a pair of long legs in front of him and he immediately recognizes who sits before him, waiting for him to wake up for who knows how long. 

_Of course_ , Todoroki thinks. _They work for him. Had they worked for my father, they’d also bring him._

“Shouto.” 

He turns his head, and sees his brother. It is the man’s skin that makes him not looking away, but staring more with disgust and hatred in his eyes. Dabi only grins, understanding his malicious gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't believe another monday shall pass without tg:re update i'm so sad alexa play unravel
> 
> once again, special thanks for [coffeewing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewing) for putting up with me. and also for [Chanlyeya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chanlyeya) and [SoraMora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/soramora) for the feedback and input!! i don't know what to do without those three this chapter was a mess before they came along.

**Author's Note:**

> For Todospace, a very very late birthday present. Hope you love it. <3
> 
> Special thanks for [coffeewing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewing) for beta reading this, and for reading almost all volume of Tokyo Ghoul when I asked her to. :3


End file.
